When We Were Very Young
by ladie red
Summary: Once upon a time two little boys grew up. People lived, people died, they laughed, they cried, they ate pie, they drove an awesome car, they killed a few things and every once in a while they argued. Brothers are like that.
1. In The Beginning

A/N: Inspired in part by Morganeth Taren'drel's 'First Time' series. Credit where credit's due. Title and forthcoming chapter titles from, like, the best author eva! Virtual pie (pick a flavor) for the first person to figure it out. Kinda obvious if anyone was ever a child. The idea is one chapter for ever year out boys have been alive and kicking. And sadly the Winchesters and their car are forever Kripke's.

* * *

When Dean Winchester was not even one year old his Mom and Dad celebrated five years of marriage.

Such a special anniversary usually meant an expensive, intimate night out followed by something clichéd like a walk along the boardwalk. Yet not on this night. Usually Dean wasn't the easiest baby to deal with. He decided he was hungry at the most frustrating hours of the night, leaving his Mom exhausted and then of course, what went in one end also had to come out the other and Dean's Dad was amazed at the amount of unmentionable liquids that could explode out of the little baby boy at any given moment. With such a little tyke it is quite understandable that his parents completely forgot about their anniversary.

It was ten o'clock at night and all three Winchesters were sprawled across the sofa. Surprisingly it had only taken five minutes for little Dean to drop off, tucked away in his Mother's arms who, in turn, was tucked in her husband's. The house was silent save for a slight hum coming from the TV which was playing a B-grade horror muted low in the background.

John and Mary Winchester glanced at each other then down at Dean wrapped in Mary's arms, both trying not to breathe too loudly in fear of waking up the boy.

"What now?" John whispered into his wife's ear, unable to keep the grin off his face.

Mary carefully turned to look up at him, shining him a matching smile, her tired face instantly transformed, "Now we wait. Listen to that silence John, appreciate it."

"Maybe if I carefully take him…"

"No!" She glanced down quickly at the baby when her voice rose, instantly returning it to a whisper, "If he wakes up who knows how long it will be until he nods off again."

"Are you telling me we're sleeping on the sofa tonight?"

"That is precisely what we are doing." Mary told him sternly.

John rolled his eyes but kissed the top of her head, tucking it under his chin, "Do you think he'd notice if I changed the channel?" he whispered conspiratorially.

Mary gave a little knowing smirk, "There's a game on tonight, isn't there?"

"Possibly maybe."

Mary snorted.

"Look, I won't even turn up the volume. I just want to see…."

Mary shook her head, "No John, no, because when somebody scores Dean and I will be a sudden heap on the floor as you jump to your feet and begin yelling at the T.V."

"I do not yell at the TV…"

"Yes you do."

John sighed in defeat and a comfortable silence fell over them. He absently stared at the TV, not really focusing on what Godzilla was doing to Japan. His leg was starting to go numb under the combined weight of all three Winchesters resting against it.

"Are you asleep Mary?"

Mary cracked an eye open, glaring, "Well I am trying."

Unable to help himself, John squirmed slightly, shifting the weight of his wife and son. At once Mary slapped him with her free arm, twisting her head slightly to look up at him, "Stop fidgeting."

And so it continued until John finally gave up and succumbed to sleep, Mary, sandwiched between her two boys, momentarily after. It wasn't until one o'clock - with baby Dean having the half decency not to disturb his parents for at least the first few hours - that his heralding scream woke them. Then with stiff, sore backs from their uncomfortable positions on the sofa and muttered oaths under their breaths, Mary and John had doted on their little boy, fed him, changed him, sung him a lullaby and waited ever so patiently until he dropped back into dream land.

It wasn't until three days later that Mary realised she'd forgotten her fifth wedding anniversary. She stood in the kitchen, coffee in hand and watched through the window as John lay in the grass outside playing with Dean.

She hadn't had the candlelit dinner or the expensive bouquet of flowers but watching Dean eat a bug, his face screwed up in delight, she knew it didn't really matter.

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* * *

When Sam Winchester was not even one year old, six months to be exact, his Mom died. She'd been bleeding on top of the ceiling in Sam's nursery and then the fire consumed her as he watched; the bright colours pretty as they swam around the room.

Dean was the one that carried him out of the house and then there were sirens and flashing lights of red and blue and wet tear drops falling silently onto Sam's head as he sat scooped in his Dad's arms.

That was the first night Sam and Dean slept in the Impala.

John didn't sleep at all that night, nor much for the next few weeks.

Once upon a time he'd forgotten their fifth wedding anniversary. Now Mary wouldn't be alive to live through the tenth.

* * *

TADA!


	2. Now We Are One

* * *

When Dean was one year old he discovered the deliciousness of a thing called pie.

One day Mary took him berry picking, the small child strapped tight to her chest as they moved through a large area of bushes they'd discovered just outside of Lawrence, picking the most perfectest specimens for their cooking creation.

Then she took him home and they spent the rest of the day in the kitchen, flour going everywhere as Dean discovered the delights of throwing it up in the air and letting a fine layer of white dust cover everything. It was like snow, except flour wasn't cold. Flour was fun and flour made the most amazing pastry in the world which, in turn, made the most amazing pie.

As the pie cooked and the rich aroma of blueberries wafting through the house, Mary began the task of deflouring both herself and Dean before setting him in his stroller. Earlier that morning the weather had been perfect, but now storm clouds threatened in the distance. Keeping them in mind she quickened her speed and as soon as the pie was ready she packaged it up carefully and sat it on top of the stroller. Defiantly ignoring the threatening weather, she set off down to the garage just a few blocks away, the pie cooling as she walked. Dean pointed and clapped as they arrived at the familiar building and soon enough John was meeting them in the carpark, swooping down to kiss his wife before lifting his son out of his chair and swinging him in the air.

"Daddy!" Dean yelled.

"Well this is a nice surprise champ."

Mary watched them interact with a smile, "Dean though you might be hungry."

John raised his eyebrows, looking from his wife to his son, to the box sitting on top of the stroller, "Genius this kid," he announced proudly, "he's a genius. What's in the box, son?"

"Pie!" Dean exclaimed, arms outstretched towards the box.

"Easy there Dean." Mary said, glancing up at the sky, "Maybe we should go inside, it looks like it's going to rain."

Sure enough, droplets began to fall on the concrete and they hurried into the workshop, setting the pie on top of the Impala's trunk. The workshop smelt of oil and leather and the horrid weather outside left it feeling dank and dreary yet it was strangely comforting being trapped inside, familiar and safe. Usually it was full of yells and loud machinery but John's partner hadn't come in today, leaving the place vaguely quiet.

"Why's the Impala in here?" Mary asked, propping herself up on the car and opening the box, carefully cutting the pie.

John shrugged and hoisted himself up too, sitting Dean on the trunk leaning against him, "Not much work at the moment so I'm just doing her up a bit. Gotta look after my baby."

John helped himself to some pie and Dean's round eyes followed the slice from the box to John's mouth. Mary raised her eyebrows, "What about looking after your other baby?"

John looked confused and Mary shook her head with good humor, glancing down at Dean.

Dean was now reaching across to the box next to him, almost toppling over in his eagerness to reach the food. John scooped him back before he hurt himself, "Whoa Dean."

Dean turned to look at his Dad with a heartbroken expression, "Pie?"

John snorted, "You want some pie?"

When Dean finally sank his teeth into the blueberry goodness his life took on a whole new meaning of purpose.

* * *

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* * *

When Sam was one year old he said his first word.

Dean was up from his chair in an instant, beaming like an idiot, "Did you hear that, Pastor Jim? Did you hear what he just said?"

Pastor Jim Murphy looked up from his work and smiled, "I did Dean, isn't your brother a smart boy."

"He's not a smart as me!" Dean said indignantly.

Jim laughed, "You never know, he might be someday."

Dean shook his head confidently, "No, 'cause I can do all of the alphabet and Sammy can't. That makes me smarter!"

Sam, sitting in his highchair, had his head tilted to one side, looking from his brother to the Pastor with an innocent smile. Dean scowled at him and Sam giggled which cause Dean to scowl even more. He flicked a lock of Sam's short curls angrily, "You just sit there and poop Sam, that's not smart."

Eager to maintain the peace Pastor Jim ruffled Dean's hair, "You're both smart boys." Dean continued to look unimpressed, flopping back down into his chair, arms folded and Jim couldn't help a private smirk at Dean's jealousy, finally adding, "I know just the thing for such smart boys."

He disappeared into the kitchen only to return moments later with a punnet of blueberries. Dean's eyes lit up and what then ensured left blueberries mushed into the carpet and purple juice smeared all over Dean's face. Sam had had delightful fun trying to feed Dean just as Dean had so often fed him.

Dean tried to lick off a lump of blueberry sitting on his nose, his tongue only slightly too short. This, combined with the purple hue of the rest of his face, caused Sam to point and shriek in delight, "Den!"

Dean's face suddenly matched Sam's, ignoring the blueberry for a moment, staring at his brother in awe, "Dude, that is so awesome, just wait until I tell Dad!"

Sam realised the effect of the word and began repeating it like a mantra, pounding his fists on the tray of the highchair, "Den, Den, Den!"

Dean sat himself on his knees in his chair, eagerly leaning towards his brother, "Okay then Sam, what about your name, can you say your name?"

"Den!" Sam repeated happily.

"What about Dad, can you say Dad? Daddy?"

"Den! Den, Den, Den!"

Dean beamed.


End file.
